


Ink

by a_random_parsnip



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jung Wooyoung is Whipped, Kang Yeosang is Whipped, Kang Yeosang-centric, Kissing, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tattoos, Touch-Starved, author is also touch starved and crying, author makes too many time analogies, please have a box of tissues by you while you read, the author is very proud of this, written at two am only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29634813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_random_parsnip/pseuds/a_random_parsnip
Summary: “You lied.” Yeosang whispers it into the air, a fragile, soft breath of slight sound, but Wooyoung flinches and takes a step back as if he had been struck. Yeosang is suddenly glad for the dark cover of the alleyway; he’s not sure if he could handle seeing Wooyoung’s face right now.“I-“ Wooyoung starts, but falls silent at a small, weary sigh from Yeosang.“You lied to me.” Yeosang says again, but it’s almost like a question. Hurt laces his words, sorrow and betrayal dripping from them like heavy molasses.He sees Wooyoung’s figure hesitate, feels him fumble for words to somehow make everything better, and Yeosang’s chest throbs painfully.Magic is bad, magic is bad, magic is bad-But Wooyoung is good?Or the one where two broken boys slip in between time itself, laying their hearts bare to each other in the ambiguous cover of the city night.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! *waves happily*
> 
> *deep inhale*
> 
> WOOOOO I FINALLY COMPLETED SOMETHING AFTER MONTHS OF WRITERS BLOCK *sobs* I FINISHED SOMETHING AND IM SO PROUDDDD :'D
> 
> I am. So proud. 
> 
> So imma let you get into reading then! Be warned though... you may cry. I sure did. (But there's a happy fluff-filled ending!)

“Yeosang-“ Wooyoung’s voice is stiff. Stiff, stern, and perhaps trembling  _ ever _ so slightly. 

Yeosang can feel the blood draining from his face. He feels it rushing down to his toes, leaving his head suspended somewhere high up in the atmosphere, slowly succumbing to unconsciousness from the lack of oxygen. His heart thumps hollowly in his chest. He swallows. 

“Yeo-“ Wooyoung tries again, and his voice really is trembling this time. Yeosang doesn’t know how to handle this, doesn’t know how to handle this Wooyoung, who is always smiling and laughing, who holds Yeosang together when he cries, who never sheds a tear himself, and this man sounds on the verge of  _ tears _ , so Yeosang  _ runs _ . He turns on his heels and sprints out the door, heart thudding slowly, hollowly, in his chest. 

Isn’t that strange? Isn’t his heart supposed to be beating its way out of his rib cage, ready to break bones?

But somehow, this is worse. 

It beats once as Yeosang rips open the door, hearing it slam into the wall behind him. He doesn’t care about the loud  _ crack _ it makes in the otherwise silent air, doesn’t care about the small gasp of breath behind him, and he keeps  _ running _ . 

It beats again, and Yeosang gulps down a pained breath as he sprints and stumbles down the long hallway to the stairs. There’s something inside his chest, something big and spiky that continues to grow and grow until it’s pressing at his throat, his mind trapped in the past, replaying the same scene over and over-

~~~

Ice cream. That’s what it all came down to. 

Yeosang had just wanted to give Wooyoung ice cream. He knew the other had been having a hard time lately; for what reason, he doesn’t know. But he wanted to help him in whatever way he could. Over the past few months, he and Wooyoung, usually inseparable, had... drifted apart in a way. They still spent time together, but whenever Wooyoung laughed, his eyes didn’t show the same mirth that they used to. When he embraced Yeosang, the hug felt... tense. Reserved. Off. 

And that fucking scared Yeosang. 

Did he do something wrong? Did he forget something again? Did he say something insensitive, had he missed something major-?

It had torn him apart for weeks. Weeks of trying his absolute best to be there for his friend, but never knowing how he could actually help him. 

It almost broke his heart in two, not being able to be  _ there _ for his best friend.

(It did.)

Eventually, Yeosang came to the conclusion that something had to be done. He had to do something, because he was fucking terrified for Wooyoung’s sake, and he would do  _ anything _ in the world to see Wooyoung smile again. Not the fake smile. A genuine one, where his eyes disappeared as his mouth stretched wide in happiness, basking Yeosang in a warmth that he craved more than anything else. 

He wanted his Wooyoung back.

So he had bought ice cream, the universal sign of apology. He had told himself to be the better man, to apologize for whatever the hell he had done. He was ready to get on his knees and beg for Wooyoung’s forgiveness.

Yeosang just wanted to see him happy. 

There was no answer when Yeosang knocked on his door, more as a courtesy than anything else - he had the spare key to the apartment since he spent more time over there than his own.

(Before... all of this.)

After a minute or so of waiting outside the silent room with no answer, Yeosang sighed, thinking that Wooyoung might be asleep, or perhaps deep in a book, trapped within the pages of another world. So he let himself in. 

He remembers the handle feeling warm, the smooth metal almost thrumming under his touch as if imbued with an electrical current. 

He remembers poking his head into the apartment, the plastic bag from the convenience store held out before him as a peace offering of sorts.

He remembers dropping it. Hearing the crinkling of the plastic as it left his fingers, the thud of it as it hit the ground. 

He could never forget how that moment of time had felt, his heart sputtering to a halt in his chest. 

Wooyoung had looked up at him from the middle of the living room. A book was in his hands, its binding so cracked and worn Yeosang had thought it to be something belonging in a museum. His dark hair was mussed, most likely from having run his hand through it countless times to get it out of his face. (Yeosang always nagged him about cutting it shorter if it became too long and annoying, but then Wooyoung shot back something about being a hypocrite - he had a mullet at the time - so he just sighed and let Wooyoung be.)

Yeosang remembers all of that well. But the one image seared into his memory, etched into the back of his eyes, feeling like a harsh slap to his face...

Wooyoung’s sleeves were rolled up, exposing thousands of inky swirls, crossing over and under each other in hauntingly beautiful patterns as they ran across his veins, encircled his wrists, and eventually disappeared underneath his shirt. 

Tattoos...

Tattoos meant magic. Magic was forbidden, magic  _ hurt _ people, magic was unnatural, magic was  _ banned _ .

Wooyoung had looked just as startled as him, slamming the book closed and standing quickly. 

A moment of dooming silence filled the apartment. 

Yeosang’s heart started to begin that hollow rhythm, solemnly marching itself forward in a grave funeral march. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his mouth unreasonably dry. 

He saw Wooyoung’s lips part, heard a soft call of his name, and then he ran.

—

Yeosang throws himself down the stairs, disregarding any type of safety as he runs and runs and  _ runs- _

Yeosang blinks and something obscures his vision, blurring the steps in front of him. Roughly swiping a hand across his cheek, it comes away wet, the water catching the dim lights of the stairwell. 

He’s... crying?

His heart beats again, the hollow thud echoing in his ears. 

He needs to  _ run _ , he needs to  _ flee _ , this  _ cannot be happening- _

“Yeosang!” A voice frantically calls from behind him, and Yeosang sucks in a startled gasp at his name. “Yeosang, please-“

Yeosang throws open the door to the bottom of the stairwell and slams it shut on the desperation and fear in the voice behind him. The harsh din of Seoul’s nightlife greets him, muted lights of the city calling out in a soft hello as he stands there, breathing heavily in front of it all. 

His vision blurs again, and Yeosang angrily shakes his head. 

_ Run, run, run, _ his heart screams at him, liquid fire filling every one of his veins, begging him to continue his escape, to just run and never look back-

But his mind whispers,  _ hide _ , and Yeosang whips his head back and forth for a second before spotting a dark alleyway, sequestered from the flashing lights and now-harsh cacophony of the night. 

He doesn’t know how he makes his way over, his vision now much too blurred to make out details clearly, but he’s suddenly leaning against a brick wall painted in shadow.

His heart beats once again, and almost like an immensely delayed reaction, starts to pick up pace, rattling around in his chest, grabbing the bones of his rib cage and shaking them, begging to be let out-

Yeosang chokes down a breath of air. Then another. And another, because it doesn’t seem like it’s working-

His breath catches in his throat and the panic sets in as his airway constricts for one second, blocking his precious supply of air-

Then he’s wheezing, taking in large breaths that seem ready to make his lungs explode, yet he’s still not getting enough-

Yeosang almost doesn’t register himself sliding down the wall to hit the ground, body trembling too much to keep himself upright. Tears stream down his cheeks unbidden now, hot with fear. 

_ Can’t breathe, need to breathe, why is this happening, everything- Wooyoung- _

But as anyone knows, fear is only a gateway to another emotion. 

Yeosang curls his knees to his chest, body trembling as a sob tears itself free. He’s still gasping, feeling as if he’s drowning in air, and it’s all too much-

The spiky thing pressing against the back of his throat isn’t placated by his tears. It wants more, it keeps growing, fueled by the sound of Yeosang’s pitiful sobs. It takes hold of Yeosang’s fear curling its way through his stomach, wrangling it into half-submission. With the empty space, something new slithers its way into the vacuum. 

Yeosang chokes back one more sob, curling himself into the smallest ball he can manage. 

Why-

How-

Wooyoung-

The feeling in his stomach planted by the spiky thing pulses and starts to grow. 

It grows hot. 

When- why does Wooyoung have those... tattoos?

Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut further, but he can’t escape seeing the expression of surprise on Wooyoung’s face, can’t escape the sight of the eerily beautiful swirls of ink on his fair skin. 

He has... tattoos. Which, by official law, both societal and federal, makes him  _ dangerous _ . 

Tattoos mean magic. Magic  _ hurts _ people. Magic is  _ bad _ . 

_ If you see someone with suspicious tattoos, you should report them immediately before they can hurt someone. You don’t want to get hurt, do you? _

Wooyoung had hidden this from him this whole time?

He had lied to Yeosang’s face, brushing him off when he asked about the sweaters and hoodies even in the middle of summer, just to hide this from him?

He had.... 

Wooyoung had lied?

The thing in his stomach starts to grow warm, sending out tendrils of heat into his bloodstream. 

Wooyoung had lied. 

He had  _ lied _ . 

Yeosang is a gentle person by nature. He tends to go with the flow, never letting small things upset him. He’s learned to adapt to each little challenge in life, and he forgives others easily. But there is one thing that he can never forgive, one thing that makes him  _ snap _ . 

Lies. 

The blood in his veins seems to ignite with the feeling now both in his stomach and chest.

_ Wooyoung had lied to him.  _

Yeosang doesn’t notice that his tears have stopped, only noticing the sudden crystal clarity of his vision. He clutches his knees tighter to his chest. 

He had  _ lied _ , he had  _ lied _ for years-

A figure stops in the mouth of the alleyway, an inky silhouette against the streetlights and bustle from outside. Yeosang stills, as if stopping every movement could somehow turn him invisible, envelope him in the darkness that the wall is painted in-

“Yeosang...?” Wooyoung’s voice is soft, hesitant, and still trembling. It’s like a punch to Yeosang’s gut. He lowers his eyes to the ground, not giving a response. 

_ Just, please, go away please-  _

Soft footfalls make their way towards him, somehow piercing through the night louder than the city’s harsh din. 

“Yeosang...” Wooyoung says again, trailing off as the footsteps stop. 

Yeosang resists every fiber in his being screaming at him to look up. The heat in his blood smothers out the internal desire to just leap up and cling to Wooyoung in a hug in which he will never let go. 

The silence persists, Yeosang not wanting to give in first. 

He had.  _ Lied _ . 

Minutes pass. Cars honk. The vague murmur of passersby softly floats through the alleyway, never quite touching the two figures inside. 

Yeosang buries his head further into his arms as Wooyoung takes in a shaky breath. 

“Yeosang, I swear, I can explain. Just please-“ - Wooyoung’s voice is trembling more than it ever has before, and he stops to take a quick breath - “-please, I can explain everything...” His pleas do nothing to Yeosang, curled into a ball at his feet trying to block out the entire world, but Wooyoung’s voice still somehow makes it through his barriers. 

Wooyoung. Had. Lied.

Wooyoung is silent for a few seconds, and then Yeosang feels a soft touch on his shoulder, and he doesn’t know why, but he flinches. The light pressure withdraws instantly, and Yeosang feels like crying again. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry- I- Yeosang- I never- I could never harm you, please, I swear on my life I would  _ never _ hurt you-“ 

And Yeosang knows this. He knows that Wooyoung would rather cut off his own hand than lift a finger against Yeosang in anger. 

He doesn’t know why he flinched.

“It’s just- I-“ Wooyoung stumbles over his words, sounding more distressed than Yeosang has ever heard him. 

_ No, no, don’t be sad, please smile again, please hug me and say everything will be okay- _

_ Wooyoung. Had. Lied.  _

The fire in his veins flares and recedes, leaving Yeosang awash in an eerie sense of calm. 

Wooyoung has fallen silent; Yeosang can hear him shifting nervously somewhere in front of him. 

Yeosang takes a deep breath, both terrified and relieved at the fact that it doesn’t shake like the rest of him. He exhales. Then he lifts his head, eyes red and swollen from the surging emotions, the relentless tears, and all the-

“You lied.” Yeosang whispers it into the air, a fragile, soft breath of slight sound, but Wooyoung flinches and takes a step back as if he had been struck. Yeosang is suddenly glad for the dark cover of the alleyway; he’s not sure if he could handle seeing Wooyoung’s face right now. 

“I-“ Wooyoung starts, but falls silent at a small, weary sigh from Yeosang. 

“You lied to me.” Yeosang says again, but it’s almost like a question. Hurt laces his words, sorrow and betrayal dripping from them like heavy molasses. 

He sees Wooyoung’s figure hesitate, feels him fumble for words to somehow make everything better, and Yeosang’s chest throbs painfully. 

Magic is bad, magic is bad, magic is  _ bad- _

But Wooyoung is good?

But he had lied?

Yeosang does not look away from Wooyoung’s figure, enshrouded by darkness. He swallows against the dryness in his throat. He starts to speak, then stops as the words get caught somewhere between his chest and throat. A few seconds pass. Then-

“W-why?” It’s barely breathed into the night, just the slightest rush of air over Yeosang’s lips, but it’s laced with so much  _ pain _ that everything else in the world seems to fall silent in respect for that one word. 

That same feeling of calm is still wrapped around Yeosang like a blanket, but underneath… Underneath that false peace lies an ocean of tears, screams of agony from the pain in his heart, and a broken Yeosang begging for help, for anything, for  _ anyone.  _

Silence falls over the alley, slowly creeping and filling the air with its heavy, dampening weight and sense of unease. Wooyoung stays still. Calm Yeosang continues to stare at him. Broken Yeosang clenches his hair in white-knuckled fists, heart ripping in two. . 

“I…” Wooyoung’s soft voice chases away the looming absence of sound, and Yeosang feels as if it’s wrapping around him like a shield of some sorts, like a safety blanket from the world. “Yeosang, I never meant to lie to you about anything. I would never,  _ ever _ , purposely hurt you, I just…” He trails off again, shuffling slightly in the darkness. 

Yeosang’s heart clenches with heavy finality. 

“I just- I can’t-“ Wooyoung cuts himself off when his voice starts to shake. 

_ Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, I’m the one who’s always crying and you’re the one who’s supposed to be happy- _

“Sit down.” Yeosang whispers, but again Wooyoung hears him perfectly despite the almost inaudible request. Moving quickly but with small, jerky movements, Wooyoung settles himself down to Yeosang’s right, a respectful distance away. 

Too far away. Yeosang just wants…

Maybe it’s selfish and at a completely inopportune moment, but he just wants a hug. He just wants someone to hold him tight and tell him that everything’s okay, that he’s okay. 

Wooyoung always does that for him; he’s always ready to smother Yeosang in affection if he shows the slightest need or desire for human contact. But…

He can’t seek the aid of someone he’s mad at. He can’t seek comfort from his problems from the one who’s the root of them. 

Yeosang attempts to curl himself in a tighter ball to perhaps disappear into the wall behind him. He sighs once, gathering whatever parts of himself he still has left in order to get his thoughts in some semblance of coherence. 

“Speak.” He whispers to the air in front of him, pointedly avoiding looking at Wooyoung. His eyes are unfocused, staring listlessly at everything and nothing in the obscure shapes in the alley. Wooyoung takes in a deep breath, and Yeosang's heart shakes along with his quivering exhale. 

Another moment of silence presses on, soft and silent from the shadows swallowing the two figures in the alleyway. Wooyoung stays still and silent, perhaps trying to blend into the darkness as well. Yeosang waits patiently, staring into nothing. He’s almost about to say something, to prompt Wooyoung to finally just  _ say _ something, when-

“You deserve an explanation.” Wooyoung’s voice is small, so soft and laced with so much pain, and guilt, and anger… but not at Yeosang. No, never at Yeosang. Anger at  _ himself _ . And maybe that hurts more than if Wooyoung were angry at Yeosang. 

_ You… lied, _ Yeosang barely mouths the words, almost like an unconscious reminder to himself as Wooyoung takes in another trembling breath and starts to speak. 

“We’re taught, almost from birth, that magic is… bad. It’s evil, it hurts people, it corrupts them, and it’s dangerous.” Wooyoung pauses for a few seconds, his figure unmoving in the dark. Yeosang waits for him to continue. 

“That’s- I can’t say that it’s not completely false. Magic is dangerous. It can be used maliciously, it can hurt people. It’s like… it’s like a knife, or a sword. It can be used to pierce chests, to hurt, to threaten, but it can also be used to open letters, to chop ingredients for meals, it can be displayed for its beauty - it all depends on the person who wields it. And… I think there were too many bad people with magic who outweighed the good. The Era of Light, all of the death and destruction and  _ pain _ that we learned about in school… I’m not saying that it was justified in any way, but there were just a lot of bad people with a lot of power. It wasn’t the power that was bad, it was them.” Wooyoung pauses, quiet voice trailing off as if he had become tangled in his own thoughts. 

And Yeosang? Yeosang is reeling from his words, still struggling to process them as they flutter around his brain like confused birds slamming into glass windows left and right. Maybe somewhere deep within him, this all makes sense. He gets what Wooyoung is saying; he understands that it isn’t necessarily the power that is evil, it’s the person wielding that power. But…

_ Magic is bad. Magic is dangerous. Magic causes pain, and you don’t want to be in pain, don’t you? You don’t want  _ others  _ to feel pain, right? _

Yeosang blinks, not seeing much of a difference between the alley and the back of his eyelids. But then-

_ Spiraling shadows, playfully crossing across each other, softly curling around smaller shapes, running across his skin like prominent veins- _

Yeosang decides to keep his eyes open, if only to just stop seeing  _ Woo- _

Yeosang stares straight ahead, resolving himself to not blinking. The tears in his eyes help to keep them damp. 

“Yeosang, I don’t know how credible I am in saying this, but I don’t think I’m a terrible person. Maybe I do possess the usual human follies of forgetfulness, of greed perhaps, envy, all of those, but I would never-  _ could never _ hurt you or anyone else. My magic belongs to me and I control what I do with it. I can  _ never _ hurt you. My magic is just a part of me that I’ve learned to live with… I…” Wooyoung shifts slightly closer to Yeosang, causing Yeosang’s eyes to flicker to his right to track the movement. “Can I… can I show them to you?” His voice is barely a whisper, sounding so unsure of himself, of what he’s doing, of how Yeosang will react, of-

“Sure.” Yeosang whispers back, still not moving from his curled up position against the wall. He wants to curl tighter around himself, to build a barrier around his frantically bleeding heart, but it’s  _ Wooyoung, _ and the barriers fall away as soon as he places them. 

It’s Wooyoung. He’s always held Yeosang when he cries, he’s always been there to dry his tears and whisper that everything’s okay, he’s always been there to cheer him up and to calm him down. 

_ It’s Wooyoung.  _

He can trust him. 

Wooyoung shifts the tiniest bit closer, Yeosang involuntarily closing his eyes at the rustle of his clothing. Then there’s a knee bumping against his, and he’s suddenly aware of a very warm, a very  _ there _ presence to his right. 

It’s Wooyoung. Magic is bad…. wait, no. Magic isn’t bad. Wooyoung is good. His magic doesn’t make him bad. It’s Wooyoung. He’s good. He won’t hurt him. 

There’s a light pressure on his arm, and Yeosang feels the urge to just draw his knees closer to his chest tighter, but instead his grip on them relaxes at the slight touch. There’s some more soft rustling of fabric, and the pressure on his arm increases ever so slightly as the rustling stops. Wooyoung takes a deep, barely trembling breath. Yeosang notices just how close they’re sitting, Wooyoung’s exhale close enough to ruffle Yeosang’s hair hanging down in front of his face. 

“They aren’t something that people with magic voluntarily get. It’s not like they just waltz into a tattoo shop and go, ‘howdy fine sir, may I have totally illegal magic runes inscribed all over my raging biceps please.’” Wooyoung chuckles a bit at the attempt at humor. But it’s hollow, not even a shadow of his usual bright giggle that makes Yeosang’s chest warm pleasantly every time he hears it. “They’re a product of the magic running through our bloodstream, I guess. Sometimes the feel of that immense power in your veins is too much, or you’re doing something really important and a flood of emotions just runs through you, and then your skin starts to burn and there’s a new one somewhere on your body. I guess they’re like a physical manifestation of the power, maybe an overflow of it when we can’t control it…?” As Wooyoung trails off again, Yeosang finds it within himself to open his eyes. 

Everything is a little easier to make out now, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness behind his eyes (and perhaps the darkness of his  mind heart as well). The same soft noises and flickering lights filter in from the mouth of the alley, and from their tentative reach to the two figures huddled against the alley wall, Yeosang can faintly see the arm lightly hanging onto his. 

It’s hard to make out anything truly distinct, but Yeosang thinks that he couldn’t make out coherent shapes even if he were looking at them in broad daylight. It’s like they aren’t meant to be understood, just flowing lines and ripples of darkness undulating on Wooyoung’s skin. Perhaps there’s a wobbly shape in the form of a complex rune somewhere near Wooyoung’s elbow, but it shifts, edges blurring as Yeosang squints at it. At the same time, Yeosang is both grateful for the darkness and the ambiguity it brings, but he also has a burning desire to just pin down the shapes in certainty. 

But in general… the tattoos are hauntingly beautiful. Maybe it’s just the lack of light playing tricks on his eyes, but Yeosang swears that the enigmatic swirls seem to be playing with each other, coyly darting in and out of space, teasing each other by barely touching, then intertwining in a strange, almost intimate dance across Wooyoung’s skin. 

“They’re beautiful,” Yeosang starts out, his voice cracking somewhere in the middle so he finishes the sentence in a mere whisper. “Just like you.” It slips out unintentionally, Yeosang still trapped somewhere within those oscillating designs. It  _ is _ true; Wooyoung is so breathtakingly beautiful that Yeosang has caught himself staring a second too long sometimes, just appreciating all the little bits of him. 

Wooyoung snorts softly next to him, gentle and quiet in the now calm atmosphere. Yeosang can physically feel him relax, his head coming down to rest on Yeosang’s shoulder and his hand now a comforting weight on his arm. It’s familiar and comforting. It’s the same position that they’ve been in countless times, leaning on each other for reassurance and support, seeking solace and comfort in the other and finding an ocean of it. 

It’s silent for a while. Yeosang finds himself relaxing too, his hold on his knees loosening from their death grip and his back coming to rest against the alley wall. His clothes are probably getting irreparably covered in grime, but Yeosang can’t find it in himself to care. Wooyoung is curled into his side, idly playing with his fingers now, and everything is fine. Everything is more than fine. 

But…

But somewhere deep within himself, he can feel that hot stone of betrayal, of anger, of  _ sorrow  _ weighing him down like a noose around his neck. Maybe Wooyoung isn’t dangerous. Maybe his magic doesn’t define him, maybe he’s a good and pure person who merely wants to live a peaceful life. 

But Wooyoung had lied. And Yeosang understands why he had to a certain extent, but he had  _ lied.  _

Wooyoung probably feels Yeosang tense, his ministrations on Yeosang’s hand stilling as the air suddenly, almost imperceptibly, fills with tension again. Yeosang’s heart feels like it’s being torn in two. 

“...Yeo?”

“I understand now that magic isn’t bad. I think I do, I understand that you won’t hurt me and that I’m safe, and I understand all of that, don’t worry. But…” Yeosang stares at Wooyoung’s fingers intertwined with his. His voice shakes. “But… as much as I understand all of this, and I understand why you couldn’t tell me before, you still…” He swallows. “You still lied to me. And I don’t know why it hurts, because I completely understand that you had to keep this a secret, but it  _ hurts, _ and I don’t know why-“ His voice cracks, falling prey to the suffocating tension in the air. 

Yeosang blinks down at the sight of their intertwined hands. Then he blinks again, and the shape of them blurs. Then Wooyoung is shifting, the solid weight of his head disappearing from Yeosang’s shoulder, and he almost cries out in fear from being left alone, of Wooyoung  _ leaving _ him, and-

Wooyoung scoots around until he’s slightly in front of Yeosang, a hand gently cradling Yeosang’s face and a thumb carefully swiping away the beginnings of tears welling up in his eyes. Reaching up with a shaking hand, Yeosang tries to knock his hands away, to roughly scrub the tears away himself, to hide this moment of vulnerability from him because he’s  _ not _ supposed to be crying, he’s supposed to stay strong, composed-

Wooyoung catches his wrists before they reach his face, holding them steady even as Yeosang tries to half-heartedly break them free. His eyes gently search Yeosang’s face, even as tears flow unbidden down his cheeks. 

“W-Woo-” Yeosang tries to get out, because he can’t be this weak, he’s supposed to be  _ confronting _ Wooyoung, but everything just  _ hurts _ and a sob rips itself free of his chest, echoing loud in the alley. 

It’s just a lie. Something necessary for Wooyoung to survive, for him to be able to stay with Yeosang instead of being carted away by the government to an undisclosed location. Maybe Yeosang does understand that, but that doesn’t change the fact that it fucking  _ hurts _ . 

Just a lie. 

“Wooyoung-” Yeosang’s voice breaks on his name. Wooyoung makes small soothing noises, one of his hands stroking Yeosang’s chek, cupping his jaw with the utmost  _ gentleness _ , and Yeosang just cries. 

He  _ cries. _

It hurts. 

And through the tears, through the small whimpers and sobs shaking his curled up frame, the spiky ball in Yeosang’s throat and the fire in his blood are finally satisfied. They flare up, escaping from him through his pitiful cries, then ebb as hot tears well up and stream down. 

He just cries. 

He doesn’t really register Wooyoung pulling him closer, the other scooting as close as he can to Yeosang to wrap him in a fierce embrace. He squeezes Yeosang tight, as if he’s the only thing keeping the fragile shards of Yeosang’s heart together. 

Yeosang buries his face in Wooyoung’s shoulder, trying to shut the world out, trying to shut  _ himself _ out, as he sobs. It fucking hurts, but Wooyoung is here, everything is okay, and Wooyoung is hugging him, his arms tight around Yeosang’s small frame, and everything is okay. 

Time passes as it’s always done, and Yeosang just lets himself cry out all the fear, all the anger and all the  _ hurt _ . Because everything is okay; Wooyoung is here. He’s here, clutching Yeosang to his chest, his face buried in the crook of Yeosang’s neck. And if there come periodic small sniffles that make Yeosang’s heart flutter and crack, he doesn’t acknowledge them. He just squeezes Wooyoung back, lost in the firm surety of being surrounded by  _ Wooyoung _ . 

“I…” Wooyoung starts out, voice achingly quiet and rough and muffled from being spoken into Yeosang’s shoulder. “I’m so fucking sorry Yeosang.” The words are laced with hurt and anger and Yeosang doesn’t want him to be hurt or angry so he just holds him tighter, clinging to him like a leaf to a tree in the midst of a hurricane. “I’m just so fucking sorry and I didn’t mean to hurt you and I’m sorry for making you hurt-”

“I-It’s okay,” Yeosang whispers back between broken hiccups, because it  _ is _ okay, and yes, maybe he’s hurting, but he understands why Wooyoung had to lie. “I understand, it’s okay.”

And then Yeosang’s heart cries out in pain as Wooyoung shakes his head slightly, pressing himself to Yeosang tighter. 

“N-No, it’s not- I  _ hurt _ you, Yeosang,” Wooyoung brokenly cries into his shoulder. “I- I  _ hurt  _ you.” He squeezes Yeosang tighter, whether in apology or to seek comfort from proximity, or both, Yeosang doesn’t know. He opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again. Closes it. 

Yeosang doesn’t know what to say. Because it is true; Wooyoung had hurt him. He’d lied to him, and even if Yeosang understands why he had to, it still fucking hurts. He is right in the sense that he did hurt him. But he shouldn’t tear himself apart over this, he shouldn’t feel bad over a necessary lie that Yeosang isn’t even mad about anymore. He  _ understands _ , and Wooyoung needs to understand that he understands. 

“But I understand,” Yeosang says gently, voice still hoarse and trembling a little from raw emotions. But he has to be strong, has to reassure Wooyoung somehow. “I understand, and maybe you did hurt me, but it was out of necessity. I understand why you had to lie, and I’m not mad at you. So please don’t be mad at yourself.” 

The response is quiet, small, vulnerable; “I hurt you.” Yeosang’s heart clenches. 

“And you apologized, and I accept your apology. I understand why you had to lie, but I don’t want you to beat yourself up over it. Please don’t be angry at yourself…” Trailing off, Yeosang moves one of his arms up hesitantly, almost painfully slow, until he’s cradling Wooyoung’s head against his shoulder. His hair is soft, and Yeosang runs his fingers through it in a comforting manner. Then again. 

“...I hurt you.” Wooyoung repeats softly, almost like an echo to himself, not meant for Yeosang to hear. Yeosang simply cards his fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. 

“And I forgive you.” Yeosang whispers it into his hair, the soft strands tickling his nose. Closing his eyes and continuing to twine his fingers through the locks of hair on the back of Wooyoung’s neck, Yeosang waits. He cries too, the tears laden with apologies and sparkling with forgiveness. 

The alleyway is silent, the blanketing cover of night soothing and heavy. Yeosang’s head is loud, the darkness behind his eyelids doing nothing to assuage the turmoil in his thoughts and heart. So he just sits there, Wooyoung clutched fiercely in his arms, and they cry. 

Perhaps it’s minutes later, perhaps it’s an hour or two, Yeosang doesn’t know. Time had lost meaning to him when he had stumbled into the alley. It’s almost an alternate dimension, one where the tightly woven fabric of time loosens just for a bit, creating a pocket of sorts where everything passes slow and fast and not at all. 

He’s breathing in sync with Wooyoung, their chests rising and falling in tandem, synonymous with the push and pull of the night. And it’s comforting.

_ No _ . 

Yeosang  _ shouldn’t _ be comfortable; he had just discovered that Wooyoung had lied to him for years (albeit out of necessity), and his emotions are twisted out of proportion to the point that he wants to yell and scream everything and maybe just go to sleep and forget that anything ever happened. 

But… he’s hugging Wooyoung. Wooyoung is hugging him back. And it’s safe, and warm, and it feels like  _ home. _

_ Wooyoung is home. _

Yeosang takes a deep breath in, just letting the other’s proximity wash over him in comforting waves. He would very much like to stay like this forever with Wooyoung, just the two of them wrapped in this warm embrace. 

Trapped in his thoughts, in that beautiful feeling of just being safe, warm,  _ home, _ Yeosang absentmindedly strokes his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, gently cradling his head against his shoulder. Wooyoung stirs at the movement, a small hum escaping from him at the sensation. 

A small quiet hum, almost shaking with attempted normalcy. 

Yeosang’s heart twinges. 

Then Wooyoung is shifting in his grip, his soft locks of hair ticklish against Yeosang’s face as he turns his head to look at him. His eyes are wet, glistening in a perfect reflection of the ones before him, alight with pain, sincerity, and maybe something deeper. The corner of his mouth twitches faintly in a ghost of a smile, or perhaps an unconscious reaction to seeing Yeosang. (Yeosang believes it’s the former, silently hopes for the latter.) 

“Hey,” Wooyoung’s whisper is soft, a hesitant step out into the blanketing silence. His hand comes up, resting against the swell of Yeosang’s cheek and brushing under his eye with a gentle touch. “Don’t cry.” He’s so gentle, and Yeosang knows he’s still hurting, still blaming himself for hurting him, but he’s trying  _ so hard _ to act okay-

Yeosang lets out a soft pained laugh, the rush of air leaving his throat surprising him. Wooyoung’s finger brushes away the beginnings of more tears. He ducks his head a little, leaning into the sweet touch. 

“Don’t tell  _ me _ not to cry,” he says, the smallest hint of a teasing tone in his raspy voice. He swallows. Attempted normalcy. An indestructible barrier, unless used by both sides. His voice drops, trying to conceal its shaking foundation. “Look, you’ve got my hoodie all wet.” He tries to project a soft smile into his voice, gazing down at Wooyoung tucked into his shoulder. 

“Actually, it’s my hoodie.” Wooyoung says. Yeosang blinks.

“...huh?”

“I gave it to you a month-ish ago because you slept over, and it was really cold out the next morning, so I just let you keep it.”

Yeosang blinks again. 

_ Oh. _

It’s not like them sharing clothes is uncommon. Whenever Yeosang visits Wooyoung’s apartment, he’s usually underdressed for the weather, so Wooyoung will just throw articles of clothing at him, telling him that he doesn’t want to deal with him when he gets sick. Yeosang will just smile and shrug on the hoodie or sweats, deciding not to comment on the almost affectionate tone underlying the mock annoyance. 

So it shouldn’t come as a shock to Yeosang when he looks down and realizes that oh, this is not his hoodie. He doesn’t know why his blood is suddenly pounding in his ears, rushing up to his cheeks, and a comfortable warmth spreading throughout him. Maybe it’s just the situation. It’s probably the context. It’s just that little rip in time that he and Wooyoung had stumbled into that’s making his emotions go haywire. He blames it on the post-adrenaline from his run earlier. 

“Oh,” Yeosang says dumbly, because all of his blood is rushing to his head and away from his head at the same time. His heart thumps loudly in his ears, and he’s sure his cheeks are tinged a faint pink. Hopefully that can be attributed to the tears instead. “Uh, I shouldn’t have kept it so long, I’m sorry-”

“You can keep it.” Wooyoung catches Yeosang’s wrist as he starts to pull at his hem in some flustered attempt to return the hoodie. 

“But-”

“It looks good on you, keep it.”

_ Ba-bump _ .

Yeosang has no idea why his brain and heart are malfunctioning. His emotions feel like a wild roller coaster ride; he’s sad, he’s hurt, but Wooyoung is clutched in his arms and he’s comfortable. And maybe that makes him want to cry even more - he’s just so confused. 

“Okay.” he whispers instead, hoping that his voice doesn’t betray the storm within. 

_ Ba-bump.  _

Letting his arms fall back to hug Wooyoung, Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut until all that he can feel, all he knows is  _ Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung. _ After months of keeping his distance and tiptoeing around him, they’re finally (almost) back to normal. Back to Wooyoung and Yeosang. Yeosang and Wooyoung. Best friends, almost the same entity. 

Yeosang had needed a hug for a while now. He had needed Wooyoung for a while now. Burying his nose in Wooyoung’s hair, he takes in a deep, comforting breath. 

“I missed you.” it’s whispered into Wooyoung’s hair, a message from the depths of his heart to Wooyoung, not even allowed to be tainted by exposure to the cool air. His heart aches, like it has been for the past few months, but Wooyoung is here now and it’s more… soothing rather than painfully hollow. 

“I’ve missed you too.” Wooyoung whispers back, squeezing Yeosang tighter. “I-I’m sorry I was so distant these past few months, I-“ he cuts himself off, voice shaking the slightest bit. Then he’s pulling away, something small in Yeosang crying out from the loss of contact, but his arms still remain around him, and maybe that’s enough to assuage the fears of being left alone. He still stays close, their breaths intermingling in the small pocket of space between them. 

Yeosang is scared, Yeosang is still hurting, Yeosang  _ doesn’t know what to do.  _ He’s missed Wooyoung so fucking much, and he still doesn’t know why he was so distant, but Wooyoung is here now, and maybe that’s all that matters. 

“I-“ Wooyoung starts again. Yeosang watches his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “I- First of all, I am so fucking sorry Yeosang, I’m so sorry that I just retreated without giving you any explanation, I’m so sorry that I just  _ left _ you, I’m so,  _ fucking, _ sorry for that-“ His eyes, which had been steadily holding Yeosang’s gaze, suddenly drop to somewhere around Yeosang’s shoulder. “-and you have every damn right to hate me, I just fucking  _ left _ you-“ 

“It’s okay,” Yeosang says quietly, his heart ripping itself apart at the hurt anger in Wooyoung’s voice. “It’s alright-“

“No, no it’s  _ not  _ alright- I- you- I  _ hurt _ you so much Yeosang, and I have no excuse for that other than my damn  _ heart-“ _ Wooyoung chokes a little, eyes snapping back up to meet Yeosang’s. 

Terror. Wooyoung is terrified. 

And now Yeosang is terrified because Wooyoung is terrified, so he does the only thing he knows how to do, what his heart is just screaming at him to do-

He raises a hand, cupping Wooyoung’s cheek gently but firmly, meeting his gaze steadily. He hopes with his entire being that his own fear is not visible in his eyes. 

“I don’t know why you…” Yeosang hesitates for a half second. Because the truth is ugly. Wooyoung  _ had  _ left him. “... left me. And yes, that does hurt, but I’m not mad at you for it. There was a reason behind that, and I have no idea what that is. So please, maybe if you tell me why yo- you left me, we can figure out how to fix it. We can solve this problem and move on. I just need to know,” Yeosang’s voice cracks. “... why?”

Silence meets his broken question. Wooyoung’s eyes bore into his. Not darting around, not looking for a means of escape, but steady. Albeit filled with steady fear, mounting terror as if he’s being shoved into a corner. Which, Yeosang supposes, he is. But… this needs to happen. Too many things have been left unsaid. They need to heal this rift. 

Wooyoung opens his mouth. Then he closes it. He seems unable to tear his gaze away from Yeosang. His arms around him tighten, and Yeosang gently brushes his thumb over his cheek in response. 

“I-“

And with sudden finality, Yeosang is half sure of where this is going. 

“I- my- what I meant with my heart-“

And Yeosang should be terrified, but he instead feels a sense of cool, comforting calm wash over him. 

“-I withdrew because- you- no, I-“

Because this is Wooyoung. And if this is going where Yeosang thinks it is…

“Yeosang, I-“

Everything clicks together, like the final, satisfying  _ snick _ of the last puzzle piece sliding into place. 

Wooyoung takes a deep breath. He slowly blinks once, and the terror in his eyes is replaced with resolve. Resolve and… and something deeper. 

“Yeosang, I’m in love with you.”

There it is. The words hang in the air for a few long seconds, the delicate, yet firm weight of them settling over their shoulders. 

Yeosang is pretty sure that his heart has stopped beating. It’s not out of surprise, because he’s actually quite calm about this entire confession. It’s just the significance of the words spoken, the feeling of just hearing them out loud that causes the constant pulsing in his ears just to stop for a second. 

_ Yeosang, I’m in love with you.  _

It all makes sense. Everything makes sense. Everything has  _ always _ made sense. 

Wooyoung. 

Who throws clothes at Yeosang, grumbling about not wanting to deal with him being sick. 

Who cooks breakfast for him on the days he sleeps over, never failing to coo at his half-asleep state as he trudges into the kitchen. 

Who laughs, and it sounds like rich bells, warm honey flowing over Yeosang. 

Who simply smiles, and it’s like a physical punch to Yeosang’s gut. 

Who just exists, and Yeosang is left breathless by all his little quirks, all his little idiosyncrasies, all of the little things he does that are just so  _ Wooyoung.  _

Wooyoung. 

_ Yeosang, I’m in love with you.  _

So maybe that’s why the words don’t come as a shock, because somehow, sometime long ago, Yeosang had fallen in love with Wooyoung, never having noticed it until now. It’s not an earth-shattering revelation, no, not at all. It’s like…

It’s like finally laying down to go to sleep at night. When you pull the covers over you, finally sinking down into that feeling of security and warmth. It’s not anything new, just something old and familiar and so comforting. 

It’s Wooyoung. 

And Yeosang smiles softly, faintly. He brushes his thumb under Wooyoung’s eye again just because he can. 

Wooyoung stares at Yeosang in silence, listening to the faint echo of his words fade from the air between them. 

_ Yeosang, I’m in love with you.  _

His eyes are wide, still glistening from the tears earlier, and beginning to fill again with slight fear, apprehension, and the beginnings of a deep rooted pain of rejection-

And Yeosang panics a little, because no, this is the exact opposite of a rejection-

Wooyoung lowers his eyes, beginning to pull away, and Yeosang’s heart  _ hurts _ , so he does the only thing that comes to mind, the only thing that will let him express how he feels, just to keep Wooyoung close and reassure him that this is  _ not  _ rejection-

And the words culminate somewhere deep in his chest, rushing up through his throat and spilling over his lips in a desperate attempt to stop Wooyoung from pulling away, a desperate attempt just to say what he’s feeling-

“C-Can I kiss you?” And Yeosang’s heart starts beating again, too fast this time. 

Wooyoung whips his head up, gaze locking back onto Yeosang, his eyes absolutely filled to the brim with  _ emotions. _

Shock. Joy. But also an infinity of fear. 

Wooyoung closes his eyes. Yeosang holds his breath, a fierce storm of emotions tearing through him, swirling around this rising feeling of warmth, of happiness, the ever-present faint note of uncertainty, and of course-

Wooyoung gives the slightest nod, a desperate yet determined incline of his head. 

“Yes.” he whispers. His closed eyelashes sparkle faintly in the muted city lights, trailing stars in the darkness of the alley. Yeosang watches as the smallest tear rolls down his cheek. 

The ever present, soft whirling of the passage of time slows, gently parting around Wooyoung and Yeosang, Yeosang and Wooyoung, broken, lost, and found in the alleyway. 

They both take a deep breath. 

The tear drips off of Wooyoung’s cheek. 

They both close their eyes. 

The noises of the city continue on in the muted background. 

They both lean in. 

Everything stops. 

And their lips finally meet. 

Wooyoung’s lips are not soft. They’re a little chapped, rough from being worried from nerves or absentmindedness, but their touch is so gentle that they might as well be made of the softest down. 

Yeosang’s heart stutters in his chest as their lips begin moving, overwhelmed with the sensations and emotions of the moment. 

Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung, everything is just  _ Wooyoung _ . 

A gentle touch caresses Yeosang’s cheek, steadying and grounding in the rush of euphoric emotions thrumming through him. It allows him to stay rooted on the earth, a tether to prevent him from falling up into the sky and dissipating into the stars far above. 

The kiss is not elaborate. It’s tame, gentle, just the soft union of two beings finally learning each other in a different intimacy. It’s barely more than a brush of lips. A mere contact point between their bodies. But it’s coated in deeper emotions, of hurt, anger, pain, and the bittersweet note of apology and acceptance. 

Wooyoung pulls away first, resting his forehead against Yeosang, one hand cupping his cheek and the other settling on his waist. Yeosang exhales in a little puff of breath, keeping his eyes closed and reveling in the fading touches of the kiss. He’s… Yeosang is  _ happy.  _ He’s content, he’s relaxed, and  _ he has Wooyoung back.  _ He has Wooyoung now. He-

He  _ loves  _ Wooyoung. 

Again, it’s not an earth-shattering thought. The truth remains simple: he’s in love with Wooyoung, and has been for quite some time. And there’s really nothing keeping him from saying that now, is there?

“Wooyoung, I love you,” Yeosang breathes out, the words passing directly from his lips onto Wooyoung’s. The other’s breathing hitches a little at them, and Yeosang quirks his lips up into a small, private smile at that. He takes a breath. “And I have for a very long time. I guess… I just never noticed it until now, I guess. But I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you, Wooyoung. I really,” He swallows, his quiet voice cracking as he says it. “I- I really do. I love you.”

“And I you.” Wooyoung breathes back, Yeosang shivering at the sensation of his breath fanning out across his lips. And then Wooyoung leans just the slightest bit forwards, and he’s kissing him again. Yeosang tastes the faint impression of a smile on his lips, ignoring the darkness behind his eyelids in favor of the bright fireworks from Wooyoung’s touch. 

The first kiss was gentle, kind, fleeting. This kiss is more desperate, each pull and push a physical reminder between them of the journey it took them to reach this moment. The pressure on Yeosang’s waist increases as Wooyoung presses forwards, mouth moving in a strange, but beautiful dance with his. It’s strange, in the sense that it’s nothing that Yeosang has ever experienced before. It’s beautiful, in the sense that it makes everything in the world seem beautiful. 

Yeosang already has his back pressed against the wall, but Wooyoung pushes forward with a gentle and steady hold on his waist, until he’s sandwiched tightly between him and the wall. He gasps a little into the kiss at the sudden movement, because everything is just  _ Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung,  _ and he feels so utterly at peace, at  _ home _ , that he could cry again. 

As the first tear rolls down his cheek, Wooyoung’s thumb brushes it away before it can trickle onto his cheek. The intensity of the kiss diminishes for a moment, Wooyoung hesitantly pulling away in a silent question of,  _ ‘is this okay? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay? _

Before he can get far, Yeosang lifts a hand to curl around the nape of his neck, dragging him down and encapsulating him in the kiss again. Another tear escapes him, and Wooyoung wipes it away yet again. 

The strangely beautiful dance of their lips continues, blinding sensations causing Yeosang to make a small sound in the back of his throat. It’s immediately swallowed by Wooyoung, who merely presses impossibly closer. 

Yeosang makes another small noise when Wooyoung swipes his tongue over his bottom lip in another silent question. In response, he parts his lips slightly, gasping when he feels Wooyoung’s tongue hesitantly sweep over his own. Then again, and then their tongues continue that strangely beautiful dance on this level, twisting and curling around each other enticingly. 

Wooyoung swallows every single sound that Yeosang makes, mouth working smoothly against Yeosang, pressing forwards, licking greedily, teeth scraping over his bottom lip. 

Another tear is wiped away by Wooyoung’s hand cradling his face. 

Yeosang doesn’t realize that his hand has fallen from Wooyoung’s neck until it’s brushing the arm at his waist. Then the pressure there disappears and there’s now a firm pressure around his wrist as Wooyoung slowly brings it up to pin it against the wall by Yeosang’s head. 

Pulling back the slightest bit, Wooyoung gasps out a breathless, “Is this okay?”

Another small sound escapes Yeosang’s throat as he nods, and then Wooyoung is doing the same thing to his other arm, and then he’s back to kissing him, and Yeosang  _ melts.  _

His heart pounds so loudly in his ears that he’s sure Wooyoung can hear it, blood roaring through his veins at every sensation in the kiss. It’s exhilarating, and terrifying, and amazing, all at once. 

Wooyoung presses forwards again, even though Yeosang is already against the wall. He explores the inside of Yeosang’s mouth with his tongue, the intensity of the kiss lessening slightly as he takes his sweet time just getting to know him. Nipping gently at Yeosang’s lower lip, he elicits a small gasp, pulling away but then returning immediately to reclaim the small sound with his mouth. 

Yeosang’s brain has officially checked out. He can’t form a coherent thought with Wooyoung against him like this, with his tongue oh so gently swirling in his mouth like this, with the steady pressure on his wrists by his head like this. 

It’s just all Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung is kneeling between Yeosang’s legs at this point, crowding him against the wall as he kisses him, slow and sensual and sweet. He drops his head, gently breaking off the kiss in favor of trailing his lips down Yeosang’s neck, nosing at his jawline as he makes his way down to his shoulder. 

Yeosang merely shivers and tilts his head to the side for better access. 

A feather-light kiss is placed on the junction of his shoulder and neck. Then another, brushed over the exposed part of his collarbone underneath  his  Wooyoung’s hoodie. Then another in the hollow of his throat, the feeling of lips against his skin lingering even after Wooyoung moves on. 

“I love you,” Wooyoung breathes against his skin, brushing his lips on the underside of Yeosang’s jaw. “I love you,” he whispers again, leaving a small, burning kiss right under his ear. “I love you,” he breathes into his ear, right before pulling back to seal their lips together again. 

“And I love you too,” Yeosang gasps out in between kisses, feeling like a balloon let go of by some absentminded child, floating up higher and higher into the atmosphere amidst fluffy white clouds. “I love you so much.” Wooyoung nips at his lip once, startling him and causing his eyes to fly open at the sudden feeling. 

Through a haze of happiness, of kiss-induced pleasure, Yeosang notices two things about his surroundings. 

One: he can see Wooyoung’s face slightly in the darkness, the gentle slopes of his features faintly visible in whatever light there is. Wooyoung’s eyes are closed, long lashes sparkling dimly in the nonexistent light. And he’s so  _ close _ , pressed against Yeosang like this, that he feels his cheeks heat up at his proximity. 

Two: Wooyoung is breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful. His long, dark locks fall slightly in front of his face, just barely brushing Yeosang’s cheekbones as they sway gently from the movement of the kiss. False lighting softly illuminates a stark nose, smooth cheeks, and the faint mole underneath his eye that’s always intrigued Yeosang to no end. 

He’s so fucking beautiful. 

And Yeosang closes his eyes again, retreating back to the darkness to savor that image, rejoicing over the fact that the exact sight awaits him if he just opens his eyes. 

As established before, there exists a rift in time in that alley, created just for Yeosang and Wooyoung. It envelopes the two of them in a fluid embrace, tendrils spun from the fabric of reality twining around the two figures, pulling them closer and closer together as they kiss. Maybe hours pass with them locked together in a display of burning, desperate passion, but maybe no time passes at all. After all, time holds no meaning to them. It’s a mere construct, as enigmatic and esoteric as the swirls of ink playfully undulating on Wooyoung’s arms. 

Tattoos…

And as Wooyoung kisses Yeosang, deep and slow in that refuge from time, he may feel a slight burning on his chest. Maybe he feels the skin right above his heart tingle and warm (not unpleasantly), swelling with the rush of emotions in his chest. And maybe, just maybe, darkness in the shape of a small hummingbird inscribes itself there, nestling itself close to his heart. 

(Infinity together.)

And maybe Wooyoung can feel that, maybe he knows what’s happening or maybe he doesn’t, but all he knows is that he’s kissing Yeosang and he’s happy. 

Yeosang kisses him back, heart overflowing with happiness and so much  _ love _ , that those emotions well up in his eyes and trickle down his cheeks. He smiles when they pause to take a breath, a small, private thing just between him and Wooyoung. Then they’re kissing again, slower this time, each touch imbued with the depth of their feelings for one another. 

Happiness. Joy.  _ Love. _

And in that alleyway, in that pocket of space interwoven between the ambiguous dimensions of time itself, Yeosang breathes a secret and a universal truth onto Wooyoung’s lips, not even trusting the night air with the words. 

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> A hummingbird symbolizes the stopping of time, as it is the only bird that can hover in air. As it moves its wings in a figure eight pattern, it also symbolizes infinity, telling to move beyond time and embrace the past, present, and future. 
> 
> \---
> 
> hi. 
> 
> Okay time to analyze everything and go off here in the end notes lol
> 
> *coos gently at woosang in their little pocket of time* AWWWWWW AINT THEY CUTE <<333 I am literally so touch starved I wrote 9k of hurt/comfort and ended with a generous amount of kissing. TT^TT 
> 
> I wrote some of the earlier emotional scenes when listening to music, and did you know that listening to Hala Hala while writing in tears is one of the strangest experiences that I have ever encountered. Because you just- you write something like "Wooyoung takes in a deep breath, and Yeosang's heart shakes along with his quivering exhale" - and then in your mind you're absolutely screaming your heart out to "RAAAISE ME UP TAAAAKE MEE UPPPPPPP" and "FIX ON" and it's overall a very confusing time I highly recommend but at the same time I don't. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this little self indulgent oneshot! I am! Touch starved! Please I want to virtually hug all of you TT^TT (please give me cuddles) Have a wonderful day, you lovely human being! :D <3
> 
> Feel free to scream at me in the comments, and kudos are much appreciated !!


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